Space Girl, Show Me The Stars

There was a knock at the door.

"Delivery!" A cheerful voice called out. "RealDreams delivery for...Curran!"

That's not how you say it, he thought to himself

He opened the door to see a smiling man in a suit with a pod next to him, tinted black glass hiding what was inside. "Just need a signature here, and you're all set!" The delivery man said, handing him a datapad. Curran scrawled his name on the screen.

"Alrighty then! Enjoy your new Character!" The man said, and with a bow, he was gone, the pod now sitting in his doorway.

"How the fuck did he do that?" Curran whispered. Was he a fever dream? No, he had a signature to prove it.

He tapped the pod open. The glass hissed, and a wave of cool, conditioned air washed over him as the front of the pod slid slowly upwards.

"Should I play Darth Vader music?" He asked, laughing a little. He was nervous. Excited. Ready.

The pod was empty save for the girl inside. She was perfect. A living, breathing work of art. Her skin was a vibrant, glowing orange, and her eyes, which had just begun to open, were a brilliant, emerald green. Her hair was a wild, fiery cascade of red-orange curls, tumbling down her back.

She was wearing the classic 80s comics costume. The purple miniskirt, the thigh-high silver boots, the strapless leotard that struggled to contain her tits. She was exactly as advertised, and so much more. She was beautiful.

Her eyes fluttered open, the brilliant green of them filled with a confusion that was almost painful to witness. She took a step out of the pod, her movements hesitant and uncertain, like a newborn fawn. She looked around the room, her gaze sweeping over the modern, unfamiliar surroundings.

"Where... where am I?" she asked, her voice a melodious, slightly accented English. It was the voice he knew from the cartoons, but there was a tremor in it, a fear that hadn't been there in the animated version.

"Hi Kory," Curran said, his voice soft and disarming. He hadn't meant to sound so... gentle. He'd practiced a cool, confident greeting in the mirror, but looking at her now, he lost his nerve. "Welcome to your new home."

She flinched at the sound of his voice, her whole body tensing. She looked at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. "You... you know my name? Who are you? What is this place?"

"My name is Curran. This is my house. I...own you. Now."

The words hung in the air, heavy and ugly. He hadn't meant to say it like that. He hadn't meant to say it at all. He had planned to ease her into it, to be kind. But the words had just slipped out, a raw, unvarnished truth that he couldn't take back.

Her face fell. The defiance in her eyes died, replaced by a dull, hollow resignation. "Own... me?" she whispered, the words barely audible. "Like... like the Gordanians?"

The name was a sharp, sudden reminder of her backstory. The Gordanians. The slavers who had captured her, sold her into servitude, before she'd escaped and become a hero. He was just another in a long line of masters. Another cage.

Ohhhhhhhh nooooooo...

"It's not like that," he said, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. "It's not... I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I just... I'm a big fan. And when I saw you were available, I just... I had to have you."

"A fan?" she looked up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I do not understand."

"I know your story," he explained, his voice still soft. "I know about Tamaran. I know about your sister, Blackfire. I know about the Gordanians. I know everything."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You... you know about all of that? But... how? That is my life. My past. How could you possibly know?"

"It's... complicated," he said, scratching the back of his learning of her entire life story being common knowledge on this world. "Let's just say that where I'm from, your life is... a story. A very popular story. You're a hero here, Koriand'r. A very famous hero."

She stared at him, her mind struggling to process the impossible information he was giving her. "A... story? But I'm real. I'm here. I feel this. This is not a story."

"I know," he said. "And I know this is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that you're safe here. With me. I'm not like the Gordanians. I'm not going to... use you. Not like that. But in this world, people like me, Prime Worlders, own characters like you. And you're my character. But I want you to be happy here. I really do. You can have this entire beach house to yourself. I just live here too."

He was rambling, he knew. But he couldn't stop. The look on her face, the sheer, unadulterated terror and confusion, was breaking his heart. He had wanted this. He had paid for this. But now that she was here, standing in front of him, a living, breathing, terrified being, he felt like a monster.

"Your character?" she repeated, the words tasting like poison in her mouth. "What does that mean?"

"It means... your rights are... limited," he said, wincing at the understatement. "Legally, you're my property. But I'm not going to treat you like property. I'm going to treat you like a person. A guest. A... friend, even. If you'll let me."

She raised her hand, ready to blast him with energy, but nothing happened. Her eyes widened in panic. "My powers... where are my powers?"

"You still have them," he said quickly. "They're just... dampened. It's a standard procedure for all new characters. A safety feature. I can have them removed, if you want. The dampener, I mean. Not your powers."

YOU MORON DO NOT REMOVE THE DAMPENER SHE WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU

"Anyway, the-the-this is your new home, do you want a tour?" He quickly said, trying to change the subject before he put his foot in his mouth again.

She didn't answer. She just stood there, silent and still, her gaze fixed on him. The confusion in her eyes was slowly being replaced by something else. A cold, hard anger.

"You are a monster," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You have kidnapped me, stripped me of my powers, and brought me to this strange place to be your... your 'character'. Your property. You are no better than the Gordanians."

"Well, RealDreams did that. If I didn't buy you someone else would've," Curran said, instantly regretting how dismissive his words as soon as they left his mouth. "What I mean is—"

"Save your pathetic justifications," she spat, taking a step back from him. "You are a slaver. A consumer of souls. You disgust me."

"Uh, ok well-"

"I was free," she whispered, her voice filled with a profound sadness. "I had friends. I had a purpose. And you took that all away from me."

She was right. Of course, she was right. He had wanted this. He had fantasized about this moment. He had imagined her in his bed, her green eyes looking up at him with adoration, her full lips parted. But the reality was so much different. So much uglier. She was not a doll. She was a person. And he had just bought her.

"I... I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling woefully inadequate. "I truly am. I never thought about it like that. I just saw a character I liked, and I wanted to have her. I didn't think about... about the person behind the character."

"Then you are a fool," she said, without turning around. "A selfish, foolish child who plays with lives without understanding the consequences."

"I...yeah that's fair..." He said, scratching his neck awkwardly. "So... tour?"

She didn't respond. She just stood there, a solitary figure against the vast, empty expanse of the ocean.

"Look, a lot of characters aren't treated well, and are treated...like property, or worse. I'm not a great person, but I'm better than them, at least." Curran said, trying to reason with her. "You don't have to like me. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. Just... let me show you to your room. You can have your own room. With a lock on the door. And I promise I won't go in without your permission."

She finally turned to face him, her emerald eyes burning with a mixture of anger and suspicion. "How kind." she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "To offer me a cage with a lock. It is an improvement, I suppose, from the cell the Gordanians kept me in."

She followed him down the hallway, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He could feel her eyes on him, her gaze heavy with judgment. He led her to a large, sun-drenched room at the end of the hall. It had a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a private balcony that overlooked the beach.

"This is you," he said, gesturing to the room. "The bathroom is through there. I wasn't sure what clothes you'd like, so if you want to put an order in, you're welcome to."

"Hmm." She said, not even bothering to look at him. She walked into the room, her eyes scanning every detail, looking for something suspect. "Leave."

"Yeah that's fine, if you're hungry let me know I'm gonna throw some food together later anyway so..." He said, trailing off as she shot him a glare that could cut through steel.

"I said leave," she repeated, her voice low and cold.

He nodded, and retreated from the room, closing the door softly behind him. He heard the click of the lock engaging a moment later.

He stood in the hallway for a long time, just staring at the closed door. Damn, he felt real guilty. And he hoped she didn't find the hidden camera.